


Under the Apple Tree

by psuedo118



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-22
Updated: 2013-01-22
Packaged: 2017-11-26 11:56:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/650270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psuedo118/pseuds/psuedo118
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Secret Santa on the Swan Queen Proboards. Also, xxtorchxx made a beautiful fanart as an accompaniment to this fic! Check it out at: http://pseudo118.tumblr.com/post/38822410252/under-the-apple-tree</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under the Apple Tree

Regina paced around the kitchen island, as she’d found herself doing for the past few hours. Three hours to be exact, a time during which her temper only seeming to amplify with each lap of the room. 

Insufferable, stubborn, pig-headed, buffoon of a woman, completely unreasonable. Honestly, what had she expected from the pathetic off-spring of Snow White, but this intolerable level of annoyance was ridiculous. She stopped in time to stare out of the closed kitchen window again. Yes. She was still there. Ridiculous. With a frustrated hrumpf Regina continued her pacing. She would not go out there. Damn her. Damn her and her insufferable White Knight nature.

You see, after the do-gooding duo had arrived back from their apparent stint in Fairy tale land, Regina had been more than ready to return to the two things she was excellent at: loving Henry; and destroying other people’s happiness, namely Snow Whites. Henry, would be her number one priority now that the curse had been broken. Snow could wait. She knew the one flaw in her plan would be the presence of Emma Swan.

You see, Regina had been circling this problem for some time now- not unlike the manner in which she had been moving around her kitchen island. And she was faced with quite the Catch-22:  
She could not have Henry without Emma Swan.  
She could not have Henry with Emma Swan.

And then, there was an additional problem, which Regina refused analyse:

She needed to stay away from Emma Swan. Far, far away.

Since the moment Emma had touched her and the hat had worked, Regina had known. Known that the tension that had been building been between her and Emma before the curse had broken had not been coincidental. That there was something pulling them together, something that was beyond the scope of her magical comprehension. And this something was old and ancient and powerful in its existence. And Regina had no intention of discovering what it was.

Henry had insisted on a continuation of Regina’s no magic sentence. And she herself had insisted on a lesser role for Miss Swan, at least in her own life. Contact was cut to a minimum, between the two women, custody of Henry divided. And yet here she was. Pacing. While Henry sleeps upstairs. And the insufferable Emma Swan perches under her apple tree, sword atop crossed legs. As if she owned the damn place.

Memories of flying apples, chainsaw and a tank top, unwanted screech to the forefront of her mind, and Regina’s scowl intensifies. Emma Swan.

Regina knows that if the foolish woman freezes to death out there that Henry will no doubt blame her for it as well. But she should not get involved. She had certainly not invited the woman’s presence in her garden. In fact, she has not spoken to the woman in two weeks, other than a cursory nod, after collecting Henry. Henry. An audible sigh leaving her mouth at the thought of her son. Yes, he must have informed dearest Miss Swan about the hoodlums terrorising her. The predictable Lost Boys. But of course, you count on Emma Swan to come gallivanting to the rescue, as if the former Evil Queen couldn’t handle a few misbehaving teenagers. With that thought in mind, Regina feels a renewed sense of anger flood her system. She is not some pathetic damsel in distress. She was a queen. A powerful witch. And she was not scared of some true love brat, caught in some delusional state of noble justice. It was time for Miss Swan to know that Regina Mills may have been beaten in last few weeks. But she was most certainly not broken or bowed.

SQSQSQSQSQSQSQSQSQSQSQSQSQSQSQSQSQSQSQSQ

The snow has only been falling for the better part of an hour, when she sees Regina flying at her, not unlike the day that she had taken a chainsaw to the woman’s tree. Arms swinging wildly at her sides, with a screech of “What the hell do you think you are doing!?!?” Except, the screech is not really a screech at all, but rather a frantic and loud whisper, Emma supposes, so as to not wake Henry. And of course, this time the sight brings a wide smile to Emma’s face. This has been happening a lot around the former Mayor. And she’s starting to feel like a goof ball with all this smiling. And then Regina had stopped their interacting with her altogether. And Emma didn’t know what she had done. In fact, she had thought that her and Regina had been making considerable progress towards figuring things out, you know? Like adults. Magic and Henry. Understanding why they made magic, well, together. And how to raise Henry, well, together. Maybe even like a family. Except now Emma felt as if she’d skipped the better part of a ten year love affair and gone straight to unhappily single and divorced. And that was flat out bullshit.

So when Henry had told her about the Lost Boys late night activities, Emma had seen her opportunity. She knew that her presence, under the pretence of dutiful White Knight would aggravate the shit out of Regina, so she’d pretended not to notice the dark haired woman pacing agitatedly within the mansion. And she’d purposely chosen to wear her red leather jacket as the only protection from the cold. If that didn’t guarantee some sort of interaction from Regina Mills, Emma had planned on knocking on the former Mayor’s door in an hour’s time to ask for a glass of the best apple cider she’d ever tasted. That wouldn’t be necessary, Emma thought to herself with a smirk, now, just a little closer.

Gulping at the explosive expression marring Regina’s face, Emma braced herself for the onslaught, not really focusing on the former evil queen’s full on rant mode. Instead Emma kept glancing upwards attempting to judge the distance covertly, without alerting Regina to her plan. The snow falling rapidly in correlation to the words being hurled at her: “Insufferable! Stubborn! Pig-headed! Buffoon of a woman… completely unreasonable… Freezing to death… What kind of a Mother and Saviour…” Emma attempted to remain unaffected by the enraged woman’s rant, focused instead on the woman’s forward progress towards her, not realising that her lack of response seemed only to incense Regina’s blinding sense of injustice. “Has the lack of warmth finally frozen the last of your existing brain cells Miss Swan? Shall I hold a party for the affirmation of your stupi- oomphf”

You see, Regina had finally moved into the exact position that Emma needed her in.  And one quick step forward into what remained of the women’s personal space, Emma looked up at the mistletoe she’d secured to under the Apple tree, and ignoring Regina’s irate monologue, had simply kissed the her. Emma kissed her with all the passion and longing she’d felt during their separation, in the weeks in fairy tale land and imposed isolation since her return. When the kiss finally ended, eyes still closed, Emma whispered a quiet “Mistletoe” at Regina, who she could feel hum in response. They had kissed with such ferocity, that a cloud of purple smoke enveloped the pair and the entire apple tree, from the moment that their lips had touched and their eyes had closed. Now that cloud began to dissipate, the smell of fresh apples filling their senses, as they finally opened their eyes, to stare at each other and the red apples filling the tree around them, protected from the cold by the warmth of true love’s magic emanating from the couples embrace.

“Well then.” Regina appeared to be attempting to regain some semblance of control. A control that had completely annihilated with a single touch of Emma Swan’s lips. She had known that this would happen. Damn her. Damn Emma, for making her feel. She tried to remove herself from the arms encircling her at this thought, but Emma as if completely aware of the woman’s thought pattern merely squeezed her, capturing her lips in another searing kiss: as if to brand her feelings on the woman in front of her through the intensity of their embrace.

What Emma did not expect in response was the broken “Emma” breathed from Regina in barely a whisper. Hands were on either side of Regina’s face in an instant, reassuring in their attempt to get the woman to look at her. Emma was almost unprepared for the myriad of emotions swirling in the eyes before her. “Hey” Emma choked out, through a blurred haze of tears of her own. “I know… I know, you’re scared. I am too. But, I… Regina… being away from you has been… I can’t not be with you… and our son… And I know, I mean, look at the tree… we make magic, so, you feel the same wa-”

A quiet “Emma”, had the nervous rambling woman fall silent instantly. Regina had seemed to strengthen with every word uttered by Emma. She now knew that Emma felt the same. Perhaps having the blonde by the side, had seemed like an enormous vulnerability, too frightening to consider before. But sometimes you had to surrender to those forces of magic which are beyond the scope of comprehension. And for once in her life Regina didn’t feel quite so alone or unhappy.

A small smile graced her lips as she said, “You’re hands are freezing. I think that we should move this inside. And we can find a way to warm you up.”

Emma’s cheeky grin was almost immediate. 

“Well, if we make out near the fire place we could have instant heating.”

“I meant hot chocolate or some cider.”

“Sure you did.”

“It’s not my fault you’re always after something stronger.”

A red leather jacketed arm made its way around the waist of the smaller dark haired woman as they walked side by side to the warmth of the mansion. The whispered exchange of the couple carried quietly to the honey crisp apples glinting in the night sky.

The End


End file.
